


Humpback

by Entropy House (AnonEhouse)



Category: Drake's Venture
Genre: Alternate Universe-Whales, Crack, M/M, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-23
Updated: 2012-06-23
Packaged: 2017-11-08 09:37:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/441801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonEhouse/pseuds/Entropy%20House
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Francis Drake and Thomas Doughty reincarnated as whales, from the viewpoint of Thomas the whale.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Humpback

**Author's Note:**

> You can find out more about this fandom [ here](http://dv-squee.livejournal.com/38288.html)

(If you are reading this on any PAY site this is a STOLEN WORK, the author has NOT Given Permission for it to be here. If you're paying to read it, you're being cheated too because you can read it on Archiveofourown for FREE.)

The water was cool- summer polar cool and comforting; the krill were not so plentiful as they had been, but enough for his needs. His stomach full, he felt the pang of loneliness. He breeched, flying out into the crisp air and flipping to get a spinning panoramic view of gray-green sea, blue-white ice and sky. The slap and sting as he reentered the water felt good. But he was still lonely.

He began his song. He sang of the past, the present and the future, all at once. Ocean and sky and land. Flying and swimming and running. Love and trust, betrayal and hate, forgiveness and guilt. It all blended into his voice, deep and eternal, pushing out into the endless waves, seeking.

Summer is for feeding; winter for fasting and breeding. But he doesn't care about that. He made his peace with his creator long, long ago on that point. Life is love, no matter whether any calves result. His love is endlessly changing, always returning, to cycle again until he recognizes him again.

He sang for hours, swimming sunwards. Somehow he felt that was the way. He felt the sun warm his back when he breeched, the water cool around his fins when he dove. And still he sang. He was patient. If not now, then later. If not this life, then another. But he was lonely, so he sang. The song of itself was good.

He didn't count days. He had no weeks, no hours, only light and dark (and in the sometimes florescent depths, those two confused), this season felt within his bones, or that season sensed through his skin.

Then he heard the song. The same, not the same. Loneliness and love, hate and companionship. They met and swam together, diving deep and breeching simultaneously, laughing in the way they moved.

And they played. He remembered other forms with other ways, but this way is good, too. He rubs against the other, and they roll through the water, 'dueling' with extended penises. It feels good and they do it until they are hungry.

Then they surround a school of fish and dive beneath, blowing bubbles to net them. They eat well. He remembers the taste of penguin. Fish is better, swallowed with enough ocean to wash them down.

The day the boats come, he dimly recalls being one of them. Limited. Trapped on a frail floating thing that never could caress the breast of mother Ocean. The other is curious.

The boats... he is uneasy about the boats. You can't trust men on boats. He sings, and his friend turns and flees with him. The boats follow. He smells old blood, and iron, grease and rum. He remembers. He remembers too much.

He sings and the storm comes. He sings and they flee while the storm destroys the Pelican... no, that never happened. He sings and he can/cannot hear the men scream, tiny, foolish men who do not know the cycle, but they'll learn, they'll learn after they die.

He sings, and the storm ends.

They swim together. It is good, they are no longer lonely, and their songs merge.


End file.
